As tourists' morbid curiosity about our world's natural disasters increases, tourism itself runs the risk of becoming an additional threat to our faltering planet.
A rising number of tourists take pleasure in other people's misery as they keenly follow ongoing news reports of natural disasters hitting remote parts of the world. Catastrophe tourism has blurred the boundaries of what is considered ethical exploitation of the environment.
Greenland was one of the first countries to fall victim to an upsurge in catastrophe tourism. A growing interest in the effects of climate change draws an increasing number of travelers to the far north. Visitors fly into Kangerlussuaq, where many tourists enjoy picnics on the glacier under the 250-foot ice wall that would raise the world's oceans by 24 feet if it melted. They then proceed to tours of the Ilulissat Ice Fjord, which is the fastest retreating glacier in the Northern Hemisphere.
In the midst of their excitement and fascination, arctic tourists often ignore the obvious threat that melting glaciers pose to the rest of the world. A rise in sea level would put large parts of the United States and whole countries like the Maldives underwater.
In 2005, American Dennis Schmitt witnessed perhaps the most evident sign of global warming in his discovery of the "Warming Island" -- a new island formed by the retreating ice in East Greenland. A pioneering catastrophe viewer, Schmitt quickly took note of a rapid increase in travel to the Arctic.
In an interview with The New York Times he argued that "people sense the Arctic is going to change. There is something in human nature that likes to watch things die."
By accepting Schmitt's argument, we are subverting environmental ethics, letting our own fetishes shade the actual issue.
This year, Air Greenland has expanded its destinations to include 24 different towns in Greenland for outsiders to observe the changes in environment. Ironically, the release of carbon dioxide from this increased airfare will only become a catalyst for further climate changes in the area and elsewhere. Our own fascination with destruction thus continues the cycle.
New Orleans is another example of a tourist-exploited disaster-stricken area. Two years have passed since Hurricane Katrina put 80% of the city underwater and killed nearly 2,000 people.
In the midst of destruction and misery, a recent "catastrophe tour" has turned the grief-stricken survivors into attractions. Outsiders go on long bus rides to witness the area's suffering through a glass window. They are taken aback by the hardship they encounter, but they do little to fight it.
Road signs along the way express local sentiments on the new attraction. "Tourist, shame on you. Driving by without stopping, paying to see my pain. 1,600+ died here."
A spokesperson for the Greenland Group, which promotes tourism for the Arctic island nation, reacted similarly to the inhabitants of New Orleans. In an interview with The New York Times, he makes his beliefs clear: "We don't want catastrophe tourism, like 'Come see it before it's too late.'"
The line between morality and immorality is paper-thin when it comes to tourism, especially in times of economic depression. There are, however, brilliant examples of laudable efforts to improve the standards of living in New Orleans and to prevent the melting of glaciers in Greenland.
At Dartmouth, we are able to engage in various reconstruction and prevention projects on both national and international levels. The Tucker foundation will send groups of students to New Orleans over spring break to help rebuild. Once the city regains its vitality, tourists will be able to enjoy the vibrant atmosphere for which the city is known and loved.
The Green Bus is one of many campus initiatives to reduce the release of carbon dioxide and explore alternatives fuels to prevent global warming.
All decent human beings should condemn catastrophe tourism as an immoral activity. We cannot wait for a cataclysm to make us realize that natural disasters are closer than we may think. We must replace our fascination with awareness, and rather than going on catastrophe-viewing trips, we ought to prevent the catastrophes from happening